


That Sinking Feeling

by betweentheskies



Series: 100 Word Challenge [6]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: 100 word challenge, Accident, Drama & Romance, F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheskies/pseuds/betweentheskies
Summary: Her voice was soft, eyes comforting but Casey still felt some anger in the pit of his stomach.Or maybe it was a bit of resentment.[Word of the Day: Harbor]
Relationships: Matthew Casey/Gabriela Dawson
Series: 100 Word Challenge [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432918
Kudos: 8





	That Sinking Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I just want Casey and Dawson to be happy, okay?
> 
> Also mention of blood and a leg wound but nothing terribly graphic.

It was a humid, hazy August day and all possible doors and windows were open at Firehouse 51. Squad 3 was lounged out in their chairs, some guys slumped low so that they could spread their legs, trying to not have any body parts touch. It was bad enough that they had to wear heavy pants and boots, it was even worse that one of the fans in the garage wasn’t working.

“How much longer until it’s fixed, man?” Kelly Severide called out, head rolling from one shoulder to the other so he could gaze up at the figure carefully managing his footing on top of Truck 81.

“When it comes to electronics and wires, I make sure to take my time,” Matthew Casey responded, lowering his arms for a moment so that the blood could flow to his hands again. He had been fiddling with the industrial fan for fifteen minutes and he was already tired. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at his brow before settling his hands on his hips.

“If you’re complaining so much, maybe you should come up here and do it,” he retorted, knowing full well that Severide was happy laying about on his ass.

“I wouldn’t dare set foot on that truck,” Severide responded with mock disdain, causing the other lieutenant to roll his eyes and get back to his work. Barely a minute had passed, though, before the alarms blared throughout the house, causing all to pause as the dispatcher’s voice rang between the alarms.

“Ambulance 61. Truck 81. Squad 3. Boat accident at Sunshine Harbor.”

Despite the heat previously causing all movement to lag, each person jumped to action. Casey quickly packed up his tools and used one hand to scale down the side of the truck as the rest of his team rushed out of the doors that led to the offices and kitchen. By the time he managed to set his tools aside and jump into his coveralls, the other truck members were following suit. Squad was no different as they, too, jumped to their feet and weaved between the vehicles to their truck as Peter Mills and Sylvie Brett climbed into the ambulance and were the first off.

As the two trucks pulled out of the garage, Casey watched in the rearview mirror as Chief Boden hopped into his own truck and followed his teams out. Considering that Sunshine Harbor was where the rich and elite liked to dock their boats, all hands would be needed on deck to diffuse the situation and make sure all parties involved stayed happy.

As the sirens of the trucks and ambulance wailed around her, Gabriela Dawson made sure to take some deep breaths. She had been on truck for a few weeks now and, despite how she knew she was trained and ready to tackle anything, each call out still managed to make her heart skip a beat. Anything could happen that could endanger a civilian, her, the team, Casey… When the man’s name appeared in her mind, she couldn’t help but dart her eyes momentarily in his direction to where he sat in the front. The two had been engaged for a few months now but had agreed to keep the rings away while Dawson completed her candidacy. She loved Casey and trusted his leadership and instincts, she really did, but sometimes she felt like he was holding her back, purposely keeping her from the danger. Which is why she was switched from shadowing one lieutenant to another. 

Her gaze moved to Hermann, who was adjusting his helmet on his head, as they were now only a block out from the scene. As if he could sense he was being watched, or maybe it was because he now had a candidate glued to his side, he quickly looked over to Dawson.

“Now keep your eyes open on this one. These uptown folks always like getting the last word in so don’t be afraid to tell them to stay back. And seriously, pay attention. Boats are always tricky to manage. Gas leakin’ in the water, blades sometimes still spinning,” he advised, eyes occasionally moving between Dawson and the window so that he could assess the scene as soon as they arrived. Like a good candidate, Dawson just nodded her head in response and secured her own helmet atop her head.

The truck began to slow as the fleet of vehicles arrived at the scene. Both the white, pristine sign of Sunshine Harbor and the name of the facility itself were a startling contrast to the black smoke that managed to break through the light fog that was still settled over the city and its waterways. Usually the fog cleared itself over the water by this time of day but it seemed like today was an exception. 

As soon as the truck stopped, the doors swung open and boots hit the pavement as couples dressed in neat, pressed linens and boat shoes rushed the men and women in uniform. Voices then started to ring out all at once.

“This boat, it came out of nowhere!”

“I heard someone screaming! I can’t find Patty!”

“I think I smelled gas!”

The ambush from the harbor patrons meant that each firefighter was receiving one part of the story and, as the crowd continued to grow in the parking lot, they were starting to get blocked off from the scene.

“We need all of you to step aside and let us through!” Casey’s voice rang through the crowd, causing them to fall silent for a few moments as they shuffled off to the side. Dawson watched as Brett and Mills started to unload the ambo and, for a moment, her heart had a pang of nostalgia. But that faded as Chief Boden appeared in the mix, his deep voice calling for one witness to relay what happened.

It was then that a soaked couple, wrapped in dry sweaters most likely donated by someone else, broke through the crowd. That was Mills and Brett’s cue to come forward, assuming that these two were the first victims.

“We were at the edge of the harbor,” the wife spoke, pausing to sniffle and wipe at her nose. Boden gave a nod to Casey to start heading towards the harbor before turning to Severide and motioning for him to follow suit. They might need to take a dive.

“What happened, ma’am?” Boden pressed, hand going to his radio so that he could hold down the “talk” button and let the two crews listen in.

“It’s really foggy out there, foggier than usual. Most of us decided to stay close to the harbor, not go out too far,” the husband began explaining, brushing away Brett’s hand as she reached to put some gauze on a small cut on his forehead.

“We could tell the fog wasn’t going to lift for a while so we decided to dock our boat. We had just stepped off when we heard this engine just wailing somewhere in the distance. Next thing we know, this speedboat appears out of nowhere and crashes into the boat next to us. It skidded over the dock and caused us to fall in the water. I think it crashed into the back of another boat but by the time we got out, it was already starting to smoke so we couldn’t see anything. People were yelling and screaming so we just took off.”

“Casey, you get that?” Boden asked into his radio.

“Loud and clear, Chief,” Casey responded as he pushed his way through the steady of stream of people leaving the dock to stand in the parking lot. 

“What slip is this by?” Boden asked the couple as they finally allowed themselves to be checked over by the paramedics.

“We’re slip 45, it’s near the west end of the harbor. The person probably thought they were clear,” the wife interjected.

“Got it,” Casey answered once more.

“Mouch, Cruz, make sure everyone’s off the dock completely. If one part goes down, I don’t need more victims,” Casey ordered once their boots hit the wood of the docks. The two firefighters nodded and began crowd control, hurrying people off the docks and into the parking lot.

The rest pushed forward, eyes glued to the steady column of rising black smoke. Soon they reached the initial impact scene but could only make it so far. A black speedboat with red and orange flames - a total cliche in Dawson’s mind - was basically docked right on top of another boat. The impact as it had skidded across the dock caused it to rip into two pieces, with the middle either completely ripped apart or at least sunk under the water. Either way, it was too dangerous for anyone to try and walk over. 

“Fire department, call out!” Severide shouted, trying to find any sign of life as Hermann carefully slid his feet over the boards and closer to the edge.

“Hey Lieutenant, I see some blood,” Hermann called out as he pointed towards the stern of the boat where some seating was placed around the edge. 

“Okay, Newhouse, me and you are going to suit up,” Severide determined, quickly turning on his heel and jogging back towards the squad truck to put on the SCUBA gear. One possibility was that the victim was clipped and fell into the water. Worse case scenario was that they were under the hull, crushed between the two boats.

“Lieutenants,” Dawson called out, deciding to address both her superiors at once. “They’re renovating another part of the harbor. I saw some planks we could lay out and make a bridge to connect the dock,” she suggested, already half-turned to go get the pieces of wood.

“I don’t know, Candidate, the other part of the dock could sink any minute. We don’t need to add any more weight to it,” Casey responded, gaze momentarily turning towards the detached dock that was floating on its own, most likely only connected to the bottom of the lake at the other end. Who knew what could happen if pressure was added.

“You can send me over. I’ll take off some of my gear. I’m the lightest person on the crew,” Dawson pressed as she took off her helmet.

Casey, with his lips pressed together, stole a look at Hermann who gave him a small shrug. It was their only shot. 

“Fine but the second it becomes unstable, I’m pulling you back. Otis, go help Dawson,” Casey said, giving his head a shake as Dawson was already stepping away as he spoke. He knew Severide would be back any moment but he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing so he turned and shouted:

“Fire department, call out!” 

After calling out a few more times within a minute, Dawson and Otis had returned with two wide pieces of wood that were long enough to cover the watery gap. The four firefighters carefully set the wood down, making sure it was settled against part of the dock on both ends. Severide and Newhouse had also returned by then, decked out in their diving gear. Severide roped himself off to another member of his crew and took a leap into the water as Dawson stripped herself of as much of her gear as she could, even going so far as to ditch her coveralls, much to Casey’s dismay.

“Candidate, there’s still a smoking engine,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes jumping to the smoking engine of the upper speedboat. 

“I know, Lieutenant,” Dawson said as she stepped up to the plank, voice softer this time. She knew that in that moment, they were Lieutenant and Candidate, not fiance and fiancee, but she needed to reassure her lover that everything would be okay. With a small nod of his head, Casey understood her words and held out a hand to provide as much support as he could as Dawson took her first steps onto the plank.

Immediately, the addition of her weight caused the wood to sink and the heels of her boots were underwater. As she shuffled sideways, still holding onto Casey, the board sunk further until she reached the middle, where the water was now sitting at her ankles but didn’t rise any higher. Casey was tempted to call her back, certain that Severide would find someone, but it was at that moment that the other lieutenant rose to the surface.

“It’s too dark down there, I can’t see anything. There’s not much room anyway so I’m sure if someone went overboard, I would’ve at least bumped into them,” he called out, disappointed along with the rest of the crew that no progress was made. When he saw what Dawson was trying to accomplish, he repositioned himself so that he was closer to where the dock broke than to the boats, as he previously had been.

Dawson was at a point where she had to let go of Casey. Without a word, she looked up at Casey - not just her lieutenant, not just Casey but Matt, her Matt - and gave his hand a squeeze. She knew that being on the same crew as her partner would be hard, incredibly hard. To know that they would continually be placed in situations where they couldn’t give each other open emotional support, couldn’t let personal feelings get in the way. It was hard but at times like this, times where Dawson knew she could excel, made it all worth it.

But Casey nodded as Dawson slowly let go of his arm, a steady stream of breath leaving her lips as she shuffled along the rest of the board. Severide continued to tread in place, ready to jump into action in case something happened. 

And thankfully nothing happened, at least for the moment. Dawson made it to the other side of the ripped dock and had to stand on a bit of an incline, wet boots doing their best to cling to the wood as she carefully held onto one of the hulls so that she could get some support. She had to be careful, though, because the smoking engine was right beside her. While the smoke was starting to dissipate, indicating that it was possibly stable, that could change in a split second so she had to act fast.

“Fire department, call out!” Dawson shouted, pausing for a moment to listen for anything. After a beat of silence, she heard a faint groan, which she was only able to hear because she was close.

“Someone’s here!” She called out, eyes panicked for a moment as she looked over at Casey.

“Otis, go get Mills and Brett,” Casey ordered then bit down on his lower lip, eyes dancing around the scene as he tried to determine how they were going to get the victim out. Different scenarios rolled around in his mind. The boats were too close together to deploy their own craft near the wreck. Plus, there was no spot close enough to even get their craft out in the water in time. Severide was already instructing Newhouse to get into the boat neighboring the wreck. They would have to use the backboard as a kind of plank for the victim, following in the style of the boards placed on the dock.

Meanwhile, Dawson was starting to position herself further on the dock, trying to assess how she’d even get herself onto the wreck or in a position to find the victim. There was a small space between the hull of the speedboat and the deck of the one below it. It was large enough for anyone to get into and presented a view to the small opening that led to under the bow of the vessel. That was where there was a pool of blood.

Dawson now firmly gripped the edge of the bottom boat in her hands, determined to make her way onto the vessel, smoking boat above her be damned.

“Dawson, do not get on the boat until we can stabilize it,” Casey shouted, already three steps ahead of where Dawson was trying to be. He motioned for Hermann and Otis to retrieve more boards before crouching towards the water to relay his stabilization plan to Severide.

But Dawson was already in position, torso leaned under the speedboat, head now less than a foot away from the hull above her. There was a commotion from the others but she couldn’t see what they were doing, couldn’t see that they had brought over more wood to place between the two boats so that, if the top one fell further, it maybe wouldn’t completely crush the boat under it.

“Fire department, can you hear me?” Dawson shouted and, in response, an arm flopped out from the cabin space beneath the stern and waved just barely. The hand was covered in blood, too much to tell if it was bleeding or transfer, and Dawson carefully slid herself onto the boat, breath caught in her throat as the two vessels groaned and shifted.

She pressed herself to the floor of the boat, realizing that she was now on the trail of blood from the victim, and had to roll herself to one side as a piece of wood was suddenly slid into position to her left. Shaking her head and steadying her breath, Dawson army crawled over the short area to the entrance of the cabin space and saw a woman lying on her back. Her clothes and body were smeared with blood because she had moved herself, obscuring her actual wound site and making Dawson more nervous.

“Ma’am, my name is Dawson, can you hear me? Where are you hurt?” Dawson called out, one hand reaching for her neck to check for a pulse. Not as strong as she’d like but steady at least.

“My - my leg. I d-dove to the side,” the woman’s eyes popped open as she tried to suddenly sit up before wincing, an indication to Dawson that it was more than just her leg that was wounded. 

“It scraped against something, I-I don’t know,” she stuttered out as she continued to move herself into an upright position despite Dawson trying to tell her otherwise.

But because the woman had moved, it allowed Dawson to see that the woman’s right leg from the knee to her ankle had almost been skinned. The blood obscured the true length of the wound but Dawson could see more muscle than she would’ve liked. There wasn’t much time before the woman would go into shock or pass out due to blood loss. She carefully sat up as well so that her head could poke over the side of the boat to where her team was watching with bated breath, some with angrier expressions than others.

“I have a deep leg laceration, possibly some fractured ribs and maybe a concussion. I need a C collar and some gauze to stabilize her before moving,” she called out, trying to inch up more so that she could throw an arm over the side as well.

“Dawson, there won’t be much need to stabilize if we can’t find a way to get her out,” Casey pressed, trying not to speak too loudly in case the victim could hear him. Mills was already passing the needed supplies to Severide, though, who could barely lift himself out of the water enough to pass them into Dawson’s open hand.

It was as if she didn’t hear Casey’s words. Of course they would find a way out, they always did. Dawson would stabilize the victim - “ma’am, hold still a moment, I’m going to place this around your neck, okay?” - and they’d get her on a board and they’d carry her out of the harbor and she'd be on her way to Chicago Med in no time. She could hear the others talking and planning and moving and trying to find a way to set up a relay system to pass the victim along but their words went no deeper. Her focus and concern was on the woman in front of her, not the creaking speedboat that lay feet above her head nor the sound of what was probably fiberglass cracking beneath her. 

“Now I’m going to wrap your leg. It’s going to hurt but I need to stop the bleeding, okay?” Dawson explained, already ducking her head under the threshold to cover the wound. 

“Dawson, we need to move now, the boats are starting to become unstable!” 

“Just one more minute!” Dawson tried to shout back but it was too late. Her words were drowned out from the sound of the back of the boat finally cracking under the pressure of the speedboat. The entire vessel rocked as if it had been dropped into the water.

The speedboat above moved as well but due to the boards placed underneath, it rolled to the ride and fell into the water. This caused the now-sinking boat that Dawson and the victim were on to rock in the waves and shift left where Severide barely had enough time to pull himself up onto the part of the dock where the others stood to avoid getting run into. Newhouse gripped the edge of the boat he was on, head ducked in case anything went flying.

“Dawson, call out!” Casey’s voice rang out and for a moment, Dawson couldn’t speak. Her hand had instinctively gone to the back of her head where a nice lump was starting to form. When the boat had first moved, she was ducked into the cabin to address the leg wound. The sudden jolt caused her head to hit the ceiling and, while she wasn’t knocked out, she knew a raging headache was coming her way.

“I’m fine! We’re fine!” She called out, sitting up once more so that the others could see her. She wouldn’t be fine for long, though, because the boat was starting to take on water. 

“Dawson, see if you can get the victim to stand. Newhouse should be able to pull her over,” Severide called out, already putting himself back into the water to see if he could help in any way.

Dawson was confused for only a moment before realizing that when the speedboat had gone overboard, it pushed the wrecked ship closer to its neighbor. Closer to where Newhouse was waiting. Dawson could easily jump over to the other boat but she didn’t have a massive leg injury. 

“Ma’am, we’re almost out of here, okay? I need you to try and stand for me. We’re going to pass you along to another firefighter, okay?” Dawson said in her most supportive and comforting tone. In situations like these, ones where you needed a victim to move or comply to something, it was always presented as a question. That’s what she was taught. Make the victim feel at ease and make them feel like they still have some choice in what’s happening. If they feel like they made the decision themselves, they’d be less likely to fight back and more willing to go along with whatever you need.

And thankfully, this was the case as well. The victim could see her boat filling with water, could feel it start to tip upwards and knew that it was now or never. With Dawson’s help, she put as much of her weight as she could on her healthy leg but her distorted facial features showed that she was still in massive pain. One hand clutched Dawson’s side while the other went over her ribs. 

The firefighters on the dock assisted the best they could which meant they pushed Newhouse's boat closer to the sinking vessel. Anything to try and make the situation easier. It was too late to run for a ladder. Too tricky to try and maneuver the backboard into position. Casey could see the sinking boat start to tip upwards as it sank into the lake and he knew that for Dawson, she was going to have to act fast.

Having the victim sit on the edge of the boat, Dawson held onto the back of her shirt and instructed her to lean forward as much as possible. From there, Newhouse wrapped as much of the victim around himself as he could before pulling her over. It was messy and not the cleanest extraction; the victim cried out in pain the entire time and her injured leg was limp the entire time. But once over, she was quickly placed onto the backboard and Hermann and Otis assisted Brett and Mills with transporting her to the ambulance.

Which just left Dawson in place and Casey would be damned if he’d moved another inch without getting her right back to his side. Dawson looked his way for only a moment, a quick nod passing between the two, before she swung her leg over the hull of the boat. Just then the boat gave a jolt, sinking faster into the lake and causing Dawson to shake like she was riding a mechanical bull, which caused both Casey and Severide to call out her name.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she quickly responded, pausing to take a deep breath before looking towards Newhouse, whose arms were open and waiting for her. 

With a final push, Dawson launched herself from one boat to the next, causing Newhouse to stumble a bit but otherwise remain firm in his position. Dawson released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding before smiling up at the man and giving his shoulder a pat. It was Severide’s cue that he could leave the water and Casey extended his hand once more to help Dawson out of the non-sinking boat. 

As he watched her put on her uniform once more, Casey couldn’t tell if he was more angry or relieved at Dawson. She had ignored his order again; this was why she was shadowing Hermann, not him. She had already started to execute her own incredibly dangerous plans before Casey signed off on it. Most importantly, she placed herself in extreme danger before the rest of the crew had a chance to support her and stabilize the situation. 

But she had found a solution to the complex, life-or-death puzzle. She had found a way to first get to the boats and then to find and help the victim they didn’t even know was there. She had remained calm and, most importantly, had helped the victim stay calm as well. She went above and beyond to accomplish her duties as a firefighter, to place herself in danger if it meant she could save another life. Casey just sometimes wished his own feelings would stop causing him to stress and panic.

As the firefighters started to return to their trucks, Casey made sure to lag behind so that he could walk with Dawson and out of earshot of the others.

“Candidate," he paused before saying in a softer tone, "Dawson.” He was already struggling to manage the balance of his lieutenant and fiance line. 

“Casey, I know. I jumped into the situation but if I hadn’t, she could’ve gone into shock and then what would we do and -”

“Dawson, listen,” Casey pressed, stopping Dawson in her tracks by placing his hands on her shoulders. “That was smart thinking there. You found a way to get over and you kept that woman calm but please,” he paused to take a deep breath so that he could try and mask the stress that had begun to creep into his voice, “but please just take a minute to think and let us help you. What if that boat had fallen straight down instead of over the side? Then what?” 

_Then what_ is that Casey would have been beside himself. He probably would’ve launched himself into the wreckage and summoned all his strength to lift the boat with his bare hands. _Then what_ is that they would’ve had to bring over as many ladders as they could so that they could cross the broken dock and move the boat as a team. _Then what_ is that they probably would have lost Dawson and the victim.

“But that didn’t happen, Casey. You and the crew had already worked to stabilize it by then. Without you and the others, if would have fallen on us. But it didn’t,” Dawson stressed, one hand rising to rest on Casey’s elbow. Her voice was soft, eyes comforting but Casey still felt some anger in the pit of his stomach. 

Or maybe it was a bit of resentment. Resentment over the fact that Gabriela had really agreed to place their marriage aside so she could be a firefighter. To place Casey in this situation where he had to set his love for this woman aside and willingly place her in dangerous situations. And maybe just a bit of resentment for how she thought her years of working as a paramedic would automatically mean she could call her own shots as a firefighter. How, because she had seen all and worked alongside the truck crew in the past, she was suddenly qualified to run her own plays as if she were the lieutenant and he was the candidate, not vice versa. 

“Just,” Casey let out a sigh, arms dropping to his side after he gave Dawson’s shoulders one last squeeze, “just make sure to think next time, okay?” He managed to get out, not sure how many times he could repeat the same message before it clicked. He let Dawson go ahead of him after she gave an eager nod with a smile, leaving Casey to trail along last, using the temporary aloneness to gather his thoughts and make sure the rest of the dock was stable.

As he helped the crew pack up the truck and close the call, he couldn’t help to shoot a look at the bright, almost mocking sign on the way out. _Sunshine Harbor._ The name and place, Casey was sure, would sit sour in his stomach for a long time, and leave a bad taste on his tongue as he wrote up the report where he would have to admit that Dawson was placed in danger, danger that he allowed and wasn't firm enough to curb sooner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! x


End file.
